


Maelstrom

by Ebyru



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossdressing, Genderbending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean owns an estate but he doesn’t have time to take care of his deceased wife’s child when his brother Sam has to move away to the city. He therefore hires a governess named Castiel—unaware of the secret he hides.</p><p>Excerpt: "Dean forces a smile, nodding. Jo leans in whispering in Castiel’s ear, and Dean takes this opportunity to admire his new governess. She seems polite, petite in frame but lithe and long, maybe even a bit shy. It’s surprising how intent Castiel is on keeping her eyes down and her gaze away from Dean’s."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maelstrom

**Author's Note:**

> Governess!AU that was originally meant to be Jane Eyre!AU - but then I got lazy and forgot to put in Jane Eyre elements. If you squint, you might see them. ;)  
> No real smut because olden time novels were classy like that, heh.  
> The pronoun 'she' is used (only for Dean's pov) before Dean finds out Cas is a guy.
> 
> beta'd by kimberlelly @lj

Dean Winchester became the owner of his father’s estate when he passed away - due to him being the eldest of his father’s two children. Sam, Dean’s younger brother, hadn’t even disputed their father’s wishes—he was glad to give over such an old, eerie home to his brother. Besides, Dean was always fond of the Winchester family’s heirlooms. The house was priceless in Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean married at a young age, when he was barely twenty, to a beautiful woman named Lisa. Unfortunately, she passed away soon after they wed from an obscure illness. Lisa had a daughter, from her previous marriage, named Jo who she’d brought along when she married Dean.

 

Jo is a pretty little thing who bore hardly any physical resemblance to Lisa—light hair where her mother had dark, blue eyes when her mother’s were brown—but shared her personality entirely.  Dean could not fathom giving up the poor child just because her mother was no longer among them. Jo was a relative as soon as she moved in, and that was all that mattered.

 

At first, things went smoothly with Jo and Sam living with Dean in the estate. However, soon after Jo’s tenth birthday, Sam became a sought after lawyer in the heart of the city. Dean’s estate was too far from the major businesses for Sam to go back and forth while trying to continue raising Jo. Dean convinced Sam he’d be fine on his own, and that he’d find a suitable governess to aid him instead. Sam believed his brother and left for the city. Dean didn’t wait long before sending a request for a governess; he’d never even been around children other than Sam, he didn’t know the first thing about raising a young lady.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean request is almost complete by the time Sam is settled in the city. Jo asks Dean if it can be someone kind and soft-spoken, and Dean says he will try his best. Neither one of them really cares about how she looks, so long as she gets along with them and does her job well. They already have a chef, a maid, and several cleaning workers. The governess would merely be there to entertain and educate Jo, to teach her how to be a proper, intelligent young woman in the future.

 

A week or two after Dean’s request is mailed, a humble, blue carriage with a young lady seated inside arrives at the Winchester estate. The lady steps out in a pale beige and brown dress, holding the sides up to keep it from dragging in the dirt. Jo is already bouncing on one of the maid’s laps when she sees the governess from her bedroom window. She’s fair-skinned and graceful, and Jo has a feeling this woman will be just what she had wished for.

 

Jo jumps from the maid’s lap and rushes to the front door to properly greet the governess. The governess knocks on the front door, and doesn’t expect a tiny, blond child to be standing at the entrance when it swings open abruptly.

 

“How do you do,” the governess says, and curtsies, “I am the new governess. My name is Castiel.”

 

“How do you do!”  Jo beams, eyes wide with excitement. She gapes for a moment then adds, “You are very tall, Castiel. Castiel… That’s the name of an angel, right?”

 

Castiel bows his head, glad that she didn’t realize he’s a man on first glance, “Thank you, miss. And yes it is, indeed. Such a smart young lady you are.” His voice has yet to give him away; he’s always had one that was slightly higher than the rest of the men his age. It helps a lot in this situation.

 

“My name is Jo,” Jo bows her head as well. “My father isn’t here today, but he should be back in a few days.”

 

“I see,” Castiel smiles, “May I come in?”

 

“Of course!” Jo moves aside, pulling the door with her, “Do you need any help with your belongings?”

 

“I’m quite alright,” Castiel replies, “thank you, Jo.”

 

Jo shows Castiel to his room; it’s across the hall from Dean’s on the third floor. Jo’s room is on the second floor next to the bathroom. She often had bladder problems, and Dean suggested she sleep there instead. She liked the idea and the fact that she could have almost an entire floor to herself. Castiel nods, agreeing that she is lucky to have so much privacy at such a young age.

 

“Do you need help unpacking?” Jo asks, sitting on the edge of Castiel’s bed.

 

“Oh no,” Castiel swallows.

 

If she sees all of the fake bosoms, the male underwear, the shaving equipment she might tell her father. Castiel does not want to lose this job, he loves children. Castiel had applied years ago to be a male governess, and he was promptly turned down. They had explained that many of the men who became caretakers often abused, molested and kidnapped the children in their care. No one trusted a man to take care of their children anymore.

 

Castiel was heartbroken and told his siblings about it. They recommended Castiel choose another suitable career like teaching, but Castiel was dead set on becoming a governess. He wanted to see a child blossom before his eyes and form a bond with them.  One of his elder brothers, Gabriel, teased and told Castiel to play the role of a woman if he was so intent on that occupation. None of them would have guessed that Castiel would take the joke seriously.

 

Jo leaves Castiel’s room when he assures her he can do it all on his own. She smiles, and when his door is closed, he heaves a breath. These dresses aren’t made to breathe in. Castiel doesn’t understand how women can support them for more than an hour. He can practically _see_ his lungs collapsing under pressure of the strings keeping his bosom supported.

 

Castiel loosens the dress slightly, and it makes a world of difference. He starts to feel human again.

 

He begins unpacking, hiding his more secret items in places young Jo could not reach without assistance. Castiel doesn’t believe the master of the estate will simply rummage through his possessions without a good reason to do so. That was how the previous master was, at least.

 

~*~*~

 

At supper time, Jo and Castiel discuss everything and anything they can think of. It starts with literature, then moves on to animals, architecture, painting, family. Jo becomes quiet when they get to family. She explains to Castiel that the master is not really her father, but he decided to raise her when Jo’s mom passed away. Castiel pets the child’s hair gently, hoping to soothe away the loss. Jo smiles at the touch, leaning in to it.

 

“You’re just like my mom,” Jo declares, “I like being in your company, Castiel.”

 

“As do I like being in yours, Jo,” Castiel pets her hair again. She really is an adorable, little girl. “I think I will enjoy staying here if your father is anything like you.”

 

“Oh,” Jo says quietly, looking down at the soup in her dish, “I’m not sure if he’s like me since we aren’t relatives.”

 

“But he’s been raising you, correct?” Castiel asks.

 

“Sam has been here more than my father,” she says solemnly, “He says he is worried about making me an improper, spoiled adult.”

 

“Does he spoil you too much?” Castiel smiles, leaning his chin in his palm.

 

“I think so,” Jo answers, dipping her spoon in her bowl.

 

“Then I shall make sure to balance that with the education I give you,” Castiel replies. “Don’t worry, Jo. I’m sure you will grow up to be a fine, young woman.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As Jo had said, Dean returns from his business in the city after a few days. Jo is the first to the front door, just as she was when Castiel arrived, and she jumps in his arms before he has time to put down his luggage. Castiel swallows, watching wide-eyed as the young master enters his estate.

 

Castiel clears his throat, looking down at his hands as he speaks, “Welcome back, master. I’m the new governess. My name is Castiel.”

 

“Please, Mr. Winchester is fine. I don’t want you to feel like a slave,” Dean lifts his bag from the floor. “Castiel is the name of an angel, right?” Jo doesn’t realize just how much like Dean she is.

 

“That’s correct,” Castiel looks up briefly, nearly falling over from the sight of Dean. He’s far more handsome than Castiel’s previous master. He’s perhaps even younger than Castiel is.

 

Dean smiles, “That’s a very original name.” Dean waits for Castiel to look up again, but she keeps her head bowed instead.

 

Castiel feels warm. He feels the same pressure in his chest he did when his dress was too tight. Jo’s smile fades when she notices Castiel leaning to one side. And then suddenly the world spins out of control, and Castiel falls all at once to the ground. His gown is good for breaking his fall if for nothing else.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel awakes in his room. Jo is at his bedside, stroking his hand softly. She really is a lovely girl. His eyes crack open but slightly, and Jo stands from her spot.

 

“Are you alright, Castiel?” She says, worry too severe for such a young child.

 

“I’m fine,” Castiel answers, sitting up. “I believe my dress was a bit too tight. That’s all, my dear.”

 

“Be careful,” Jo says, narrowing her eyes, “I don’t want to lose my lovely governess so quickly.”

 

Castiel chuckles, squeezing her hand, “I’ll do my very best.”

 

“Papa,” Jo shouts. Castiel had forgotten about Dean’s bedroom being down the hall. “Papa, Castiel is awake.”

 

Dean appears in nothing more than a few seconds, leaning against the door frame, “Are you really alright?”

 

“I assure you,” Castiel looks down, not wanting to keep eye contact with the master for long, “I’ll be right as rain shortly.”

 

Dean forces a smile, nodding. Jo leans in whispering in Castiel’s ear, and Dean takes this opportunity to admire his new governess. She seems polite, petite in frame but lithe and long, maybe even a bit shy. It’s surprising how intent Castiel is on keeping her eyes down and her gaze away from Dean’s.

 

Dean is completely mesmerized by how quickly Jo has formed a connection with Castiel. She is exactly what Jo had asked for; kind, soft-spoken, proper. Neither of them expected her to be this modest and respectful, though. It’s almost a shame Dean hasn’t had a chance to see her eyes yet; how could he see if Castiel is a good person deep down?

 

“I’ll leave you two ladies, then,” Dean says, taking one more glance at his dark-haired governess. “I shall see you tomorrow morning, Castiel.”

 

Castiel nods, smiling, but refusing to look up.  Dean is disappointed that he may never truly know who this governess is.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean attempts to strike up conversation with Castiel, but she always slips away and back to Jo’s side. He doesn’t mean to be envious of his daughter-in-law, but he is in spite of his efforts. Castiel is a wonderful, new creature in his home and it seems as though she wants nothing to do with him. His heart feels the rejection most strongly. After it begins to happen on a daily basis—Castiel not making eye contact and escaping—Dean assumes Castiel is uninterested in having more than a professional relationship. Dean  really wishes Castiel would reconsider, and at least grace Dean with a friendship.

 

Castiel is trying his hardest not to be pulled into Dean’s charm, but it’s proving more and more difficult. He’s kind, friendly, handsome, intelligent and very grounded despite his father’s fortune being left almost entirely to him. Castiel can’t believe someone as perfect as Dean could exist in the world, and just sharing a roof with him is making Castiel’s guilt worsen by the day. His only solace is sweet Jo and her brilliant, curious mind. Thus, Castiel uses Jo as a way to escape Dean any and every moment he anticipates he might be swept off his feet for good.

 

Jo creeps into Castiel’s room one night, as she always does, and sits on his bed next to him. He’s fast asleep, so he doesn’t feel her tugging down the blanket slowly, peering at his very unladylike figure. When Castiel turns over, she whispers into his ear: “I knew you weren’t a woman, but you’re still a beautiful lady to me.”

 

Castiel doesn’t know if he dreamt it or not the next day, but he has a feeling it’s of no importance either way. Jo likes having Castiel around, she won’t sabotage him by telling her father that he’s in fact a young, effeminate man.

 

During the time after Dean notices Castiel’s cold behaviour, he wants to give Castiel some space to settle in, and goes on trips into city to visit Sam and his conduct business. He goes on trips more and more frequently, trying to allow Castiel time to realize he means no harm, and only wants to get to know her. Dean hopes Jo can explain to Castiel how nice of a man he is, how much of a gentleman he can be. But every time Dean returns to the estate, Castiel is the same.

 

Castiel can’t allow a man just as beautiful as himself to ruin this wonderful arrangement he’s finally encountered. He needs to keep this employment for as long as he can. But Dean is insistent, and so gentle about it that Castiel nearly wants to cry when he sees Dean’s frown each time he’s turned down for a meal or a friendly discussion.

 

Dean runs out of reasons to go on trips, and ends up spending more time at home. Dean is content with watching Castiel from afar as she teaches Jo about geography and history. If this is all Castiel will allow him, this is what Dean will take.

 

Castiel can sense Dean’s presence, like an alarm buzzing right below his skin, and it only grows stronger the more time Dean spends watching him. Jo giggles and tells Castiel he’s blushing at least once per day, which is more than he’d like, but at least she’s kind enough to warn him.

 

Dean is at wit’s end. He wants to be closer to the person raising his daughter. And if that isn’t reason enough, then perhaps he should make his intentions clearer. Dean pulls Castiel aside and explains that he’d like to become friends. Castiel can’t find an excuse to refuse. Being friends is exactly what he’d hoped to be with the master of the estate. Dean is delighted when Castiel accepts without seeming too perturbed by the idea.

 

Dean begins by wishing Castiel good night on a daily basis as they go to their separate bedrooms. Castiel’s heart flutters just hearing Dean’s low, soothing tone every night before he slips into a dream world filled with the young man.

 

After Castiel is accustomed to that, Dean asks if he may touch the young governess. Castiel isn’t sure if that is a good idea, considering he can’t even go to bed without the image of Dean’s smile burned in his thoughts. But he, surprising even himself, agrees. Dean kisses him on the hand, wishing him a night well rested.

 

Castiel doesn’t sleep for the entirety of the night. The gentle press of Dean’s full, red lips against his knuckles fills him with enough adrenaline to race a horse and win. Castiel can’t fall asleep because his body refuses to unwind, unstiffen, and just relax.

 

Dean’s heart is racing as he lies in bed, picturing Castiel’s soft hands against his face, on his neck, down his chest. He can’t sleep. He might not sleep ever again because of Castiel. At least not comfortably. The maids are unhappy when they come to clean his sheets in the morning.

 

Castiel’s voice cracks when he’s speaking to Jo, and instead of being suspicious of it like Castiel is afraid of, Dean is fond of the sound. He likes how deep it became in that moment, how real it sounded. Dean finally glimpsed into the depth of his precious governess.

 

Dean likes Castiel no matter how her voice sounds, how she dresses—though she’s always in earth toned gowns—and what she does. Castiel doesn’t tell Jo, won’t, but she knows he’s been tightening his dresses to impress Dean.

 

Castiel doesn’t know, but it’s definitely effective, it’s satisfactory.

 

Dean is drawn to Castiel more than ever, fantasies running rampant in his mind every night for weeks on end. Castiel is ashamed of trying to lead on the master like this, of wanting Dean so badly Castiel would risk losing his place next to his precious pupil.

 

Dean grabs hold of Castiel’s hand the following night, squeezing gently. Castiel is on the verge of letting everything go and just letting Dean take him with open arms. But he can’t, he won’t give in. Castiel pulls his hand away slowly, and Dean’s brow creases. Dean’s disappointed, but Castiel knows he’s also persistent.

 

“Good night my dear Castiel,” Dean says, dragging her hand up to his mouth, warm air tickling across Castiel’s skin.

 

“G-good night, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel brings his hand to his side, holding up his dress as he walks away.

 

Dean watches Castiel scurry to her room, wishing she were going into his instead. If only they could touch more than just teasingly, sparingly, like they have been, Dean could get one night’s rest. Dean is desperate for Castiel’s approval, for her to accept Dean’s desire to be faithful.

 

Castiel is trembling when he reaches his bedroom. He locks the door behind him—something he’s never done—and he strips out of the dress quickly, the under layer discarded just as frantically. He needs release, and he can’t risk being caught in the middle of it. His fingers, still tingling from where Dean touched, slip below his underwear and grab his length. It takes but a few firm, rough strokes, and Castiel is spilling all over his hand with Dean’s name on his lips.

 

Castiel realizes afterward, once his breathing has calmed and he can think clearly, that there is nowhere for him to clean up the mess in his room. He’d have to use an item of clothing and then rinse it out well enough that the maid’s wouldn’t discover the mess. Castiel grabs one of many slips and wipes his hand on it, bunching it up. He puts on his night gown, a flimsy, white thing, and unlocks his door.

 

Dean is standing not far from Castiel’s door, in his own bedtime outfit, watching Castiel longingly. He watches as Castiel smiles slowly, head bowed, squeezing the item in her possession tightly. Dean’s lips are quivering with want when he takes in the sight of that long, pale fabric barely covering Castiel’s body. Castiel approaches hesitantly, just needing to go downstairs to use the sink.

 

“Castiel,” Dean says fondly, “I’ve never seen you in your night gown.”

 

“That’s correct,” Castiel says, trying not to shake, hiding the stain.

 

“I quite like it,” Dean adds. “I quite like you, actually.”

 

Castiel holds on to the railing of the staircase. He’s nearly free, and yet Dean is making every step harder and harder to take. “I see. I’m glad,” he still won’t look at Dean.

 

“It’s not uncommon for a young governess and her master to fall for each other,” Dean says as Castiel rushes down the stairs to the second floor.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel tells Jo that he may need to leave because he is having difficulty living here. He doesn’t tell her why, but she’s smart enough to figure that out on her own. Jo has tears in her eyes when Castiel tells her that. She pleads for him to stay and keep teaching her all the wondrous things he knows. She leans her head on his lap, and he pets her hair, reflexively, like he has been for the past six months. Her golden locks shine against his skin, and he tangles his fingers in her them, stroking away her anxiety.

 

“I’m sorry, Jo,” Castiel murmurs, “I won’t leave you.” He can’t leave when he’s finally found someone to share with, to be open with, and who understands him so well. Her age doesn’t matter; she is his long lost kin. “I’m doing this for you, you know.”

 

“Thank you, Castiel,” she wipes the tears from her eyes.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The maids take Jo to the city for the day which leaves Castiel and Dean in the estate almost completely alone. Dean is beyond ecstatic, but Castiel is horrified.

 

For hours, Dean watches Castiel walk around the house aimlessly, sometimes flipping through classic literature, sometimes watering flowers.  Castiel feels the eyes like blades, cutting through him and seeing all the lies underneath his clothing. He also feels the swell of pride, knowing he can capture the handsome master’s attention so easily.

 

Dean can’t take anymore of just watching and approaches his young governess. Castiel doesn’t move away, although it looks like she really wants to. Dean decides he needs to know once and for all if Castiel returns his feelings or not.

 

Dean’s reaching out, pulling Castiel to sit with him on the couch. He won’t say anything because words tend to make Castiel even more apprehensive. He lets his hand rest on her knee, and Castiel flinches, but doesn’t tear her eyes away from Dean’s hand. Dean leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to Castiel’s cheek. Dean watches Castiel’s eyes fluttering, already half lidded.

 

“Mr. Winchester,” Castiel whispers, his voice deeper than he can control.

 

“If you don’t want this, you should stop me now,” Dean replies just as gently, just as broken.

 

Dean’s fingers trail up Castiel’s leg, resting on her hip. Castiel’s eyes shut and Dean kisses her on the lips, softly, his hand sliding up and down Castiel’s thigh. Castiel hums and Dean takes Castiel’s lips between his own, drawing out more of those new and exciting sounds. Castiel’s fingers are coiled around Dean’s arm, encouraging his fingers to roam further. Dean slips his tongue inside Castiel’s mouth, his digits pushing Castiel’s dress up and off  her knee. The stockings underneath are a tan colour, and Dean wishes he could slide them off with his mouth, but he pulls until they crackle instead. They tear enough for him to see milky skin, and Castiel moans, sucking on Dean’s tongue. Dean slips his fingers in Castiel’s hair, deepening the kiss, his other hand trailing underneath Castiel’s stockings.

 

“Wait,” Castiel pulls away, his eyes dark from the rush of being wanted so badly. “Your daughter, she’ll return soon.”

 

“Not now,” Dean answers quickly, dragging Castiel back in, licking inside her mouth for every ounce of flavour that is purely Castiel.

 

Castiel shivers when Dean’s fingers scrape over his bare knee, curling around the skin there. Dean pushes Castiel down against the couch, his hand moving higher, squeezing Castiel’s thigh, the bulge in Dean’s pants impossible for Castiel to ignore even through the many layers of his dress. Castiel arches when Dean’s palm finds his behind, rubbing in circles.

 

Then Dean sucks a spot below his throat, and Castiel jumps, pushing Dean off.

 

Not only is Castiel frighteningly aroused by all the attention, Dean nearly discovered his Adam’s apple. There would be no way to explain why a woman had an anatomical part only men had. Castiel rushes up the stairs to his room, not uttering a word to Dean.

 

Dean stares at the stairs, hoping Castiel will come back down, but she doesn’t.

 

For the rest of the day, Dean wonders what he did wrong. Perhaps he went too fast? Perhaps Castiel is a virgin? Perhaps Castiel is still reserved and needs more time before entering the physical side of a relationship? Dean will give Castiel all the time she needs, so long as she doesn’t begin ignoring Dean like she once had.

 

~*~*~

 

The next morning, Dean knocks on Castiel’s door softly and asks if Castiel will accompany him on a stroll through the garden. When Castiel blushes, lashes fluttering, Dean assumes the answer is yes. They converse, more than they ever have, and Dean is pleased with how intelligent the object of his affection is. Castiel could put his genius brother Sam to shame.

 

Later on, Dean asks Jo to eat a bit sooner so he and Castiel can dine together. She gladly accepts, skipping off to the kitchen, humming a song Castiel taught her. Castiel is wearing a dark blue dress—one he knows brings out his eyes, not that Dean has seen them, really—when he arrives for supper. Dean can’t take his eyes off of Castiel’s flushed skin and wonderful gown for a second, hardly touching the plate of food in front of him.

 

As they both retire to the third floor for bed, Dean follows Castiel back to her room, holding her arm gingerly. Castiel watches Dean from the corner of his eye, worried that he might try to strip Castiel or something equally unwanted. Instead, Dean pulls Castiel’s blankets down and kisses Castiel on the forehead.

 

“Sleep well, Cas,” Dean smiles, closing the door behind him.

 

‘Cas’, he thinks. No one had ever bothered to find Castiel a nickname in the past.

 

Castiel doesn’t know what to do to make his heart stop thundering in his chest, to make it stop begging to be next to Dean’s. Maybe he doesn’t want to stop it anymore. Castiel is too far gone, too ruined by Dean’s excessive kindness and devotion to pleasing who he thinks is a young, female governess.

 

Castiel tries not to cry that night, but his pillow is damp when he wakes in the morning.

 

~*~*~

 

Castiel is so confused, so upset by all that’s happening that he doesn’t notice.

 

The door is creaking open behind him, Dean having asked to come in and receiving no answer, and Castiel, not having heard, isn’t decent yet—for a woman.

 

“Castiel—”

 

Dean’s eyes are wide, his brows furrowed as he watches this—this young man who looks an awful lot like Castiel. It is Castiel, he knows it is. Dean can tell from the familiar flush crawling over his cheeks as he tries to gather his clothing and hide his flat, bosom-less chest from Dean.

 

Castiel is hiding his face with both hands, shaking as the tears stream down his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Winchester.”

 

Dean closes the door silently behind him, going back to his own bedroom. He needs to think. He needs to process what just occurred, what has been under his nose all along. Jo had tried to hint, Castiel had tried to prevent this situation, but Dean was too stubborn.

 

Did this change how he felt about Castiel? Dean holds his head, sitting on the edge of his bed. Did this change how his heart reacted to being in the same room as Castiel? He lies back on his bed, looking up at the angel painted on his ceiling. Did this change how much he wants to be with Castiel? Dean doesn’t know how to answer any of those questions, so he stays in his room. He ignores the maids and chefs calling for him. He opens his closet, taking out a forty year old bottle of rum, and drinks from it without using a glass.

 

After quite a few hours, Jo goes up to see her father. She knocks at his door, repeatedly, franctically.

 

“What is it, Jo?” Dean says, not moving from his bed.

 

“Castiel is gone, papa,” Jo says, hysterical. “What happened, papa?”

 

Dean wishes he knew.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel is in another gown, not because it’s habit, but because that’s all he owns. He’d rather be wearing nothing, rather not have to deal with this guilt so constantly, but running through the woods naked would be imbecilic. There’s nothing but trees, twigs snapping under his flat shoes, pebbles tripping him, and dirt. He can’t tell if he’s going in the right direction or if he’s running in circles. He’s desperate to get as far away from the lies as he can, even if it means losing his sense of direction in the process.

 

Castiel regrets so much. He regrets leaving poor Jo when he promised he wouldn’t. He regrets lying to Dean from day one. He regrets being so intent on becoming a governess when it was against the natural order of society. He regrets following his brother’s advice when it was clearly a farce. He regrets being born so effeminate, so able to deceive people in regards to his gender. But most of all, he regrets not telling Dean exactly how he feels.

 

Castiel loves Dean.

 

The thought of Dean proves too much for him to handle, and he trips over a stone, tumbling down a hill and scraping both his knees. Castiel doesn’t have the energy to walk , and he can’t figure out where he is anymore. He cries in his hands, Dean’s shocked expression the only thing he can conjure up in his mind. He’s hurt Dean beyond repair, and that is the last thing he wanted.

 

Castiel falls asleep in the mud, clinging to his reddened knees.

 

Dean is on a white stallion, looking left and right, his dog, Pilot, searching on the ground for Castiel’s scent. Pilot howls when he gets to the point where Castiel fell, and Dean leaps from his horse, following his furry companion down the steep hill.

 

Castiel cracks one eye open when he feels a wet tongue on his hand and warm breath panting against his skin. If Pilot is here, that could only mean Dean is not far behind. Castiel pets Pilot and, just as expected, Dean is coming down the hill, careful not to tumble (like Castiel had).

 

“Castiel, are you alright?” Dean asks when he notices the distressed and dirty man next to his faithful dog.

 

“I’m fine,” Castiel answers dryly, still looking away. He doesn’t want to be saved, least of all by the man he wronged. Why couldn’t he just let Castiel die out here on his own?

 

“You look troubled,” Dean says softly, and he strides towards Castiel. He leans down, moving Castiel’s hands and noticing his bloodied knees and ripped stockings. Not that he really needs to wear them anymore. “Let me help you stand.”

 

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” Castiel deadpans, putting his hands back on his knees to cover the holes.

 

“You most certainly are not,” Dean says, worried. “I bet you’re lost as well, aren’t you?”

 

Castiel doesn’t reply. Dean grumbles and takes Castiel’s hand, gripping it tightly enough that Castiel can’t free himself of the hold. “We’re going back to my estate, getting you cleaned up, and then you may do as you please.”

 

Climbing up the hill proves to be less difficult (and painful) than going down. Castiel worries for a second that they will walk back to Dean’s estate; Castiel barely has the energy to stand up, let alone make it all the way there with his limbs still attached.  Dean climbs atop his horse’s saddle in one swift motion, reaching down for Castiel’s hand. It’s better than walking, certainly.

 

They ride back to the house, Pilot racing close behind.

 

Castiel tries to keep a distance between his body and Dean’s by leaning away. But Dean drags Castiel closer by his hand, forcing him to hold on more securely. Dean doesn’t want Castiel to take another spill when he already seems so helpless, listless.

 

Castiel feels ridiculous in this dress what with the secret already out in the open, but Dean is careful that it doesn’t tear while they continue to ride back to the estate.

 

“I wish you would have told me sooner,” Dean mutters, squeezing Castiel’s hand. “Even my daughter knew, it seems.”

 

Castiel closes his eyes, leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder as they near the estate.

 

“I understand why you did it,” Dean adds, “but did you really think your gender would change my liking you?” He sighs, tugging the reins to make his horse trot instead.

 

Dean slides off first, helping Castiel down with a hand on either hip. Castiel blinks, amazed by how kind Dean is despite Castiel’s previous lies.

 

“My apologies,” Castiel mumbles, staring into Dean’s eyes for what very well could be the first time.

 

Dean runs a hand through his short, light brown hair suddenly very nervous. Castiel’s eyes are breathtaking. He’s breathtaking. He could be so much more than a humble governess if he wished.

 

Dean takes his horse’s reins after a moment of trying to breathe, “I will put him in his rightful place and return afterward. Please use any of my possessions you need to.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel goes straight to Jo’s room, but she refuses to look at him. He shifts his dress, bending down on one knee, clasping his hands together. “Please, please, please forgive me,” he says, a bit overdramatic but mostly sincere.

 

Jo giggles and lifts her face from where she was hiding in her pillows, “Okay, Castiel. As long as you continue to teach me wonderful, new things every day for many more years.”

 

It had almost been a year since Castiel had arrived, that’s true.

 

“I promise,” Castiel stands. Jo runs towards him and leaps into his arms, nuzzling into the caresses like a kitten. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, my precious pupil.”

 

“If you make papa happy again, then it will be fine,” Jo beams.

 

“I’ll try,” Castiel lies, having no clue how to fix what’s happened between him and Dean. What did they have? How could Castiel mend something he couldn’t comprehend in the first place? Men were not supposed to court other men, they were supposed to hunt together, drink, be _friends_. They’ve already crossed all the boundaries of regular, male relationships.

 

Castiel leaves Jo in her room, climbing up to the third floor for a change of clothing. He takes a dress, without meaning to, without being conscious of it, as he slips into the only bathroom with a large tub available. Perhaps Castiel needed the safety of this attire just a bit longer. He’s been hiding behind it for so long, it’s practically become a second skin he can slither into to escape the reality of his confusing life.

 

The water runs for a few moments, Castiel stopping it just in time to keep it from overflowing. He’s never really taken the chance to use this bathroom, considering it was right next to Dean’s bedroom. Castiel undresses, hissing when his stockings catch on the wounds of his legs. Stepping in the warm, bubbly water is almost as painful as the fabric, but it tingles and cleanses him like nothing else in the world could. Castiel hums when he’s finally settled at the bottom, his arms resting upon either edge of the rounded tub.

 

Worry, pain, frustration, life—they all slip out of his grasp. Castiel’s eyes close slowly, his mind drifting past unhappy thoughts, and settling on pleasing ones instead. Dean is the one that reappears most often. Castiel contemplates Dean’s smile, his kindness, his touch, his pursuit of Castiel, his kiss. The last makes Castiel quiver, the warmth of the bath doing nothing to prevent it. He hums softly, reminiscing over the passionate and short-lived moment they shared in the living room. It was the first time Castiel had ever felt so wanted.

 

Dean sneaks into the bathroom, sitting quietly on the toilet seat. Castiel is humming, running a soapy hand up and down his leg. His sounds amplify, and Dean bites his lip to keep from startling his precious guest with his own encouragement. Castiel’s hand slides higher up his leg underwater and Dean leans over to watch. The effeminate man is stroking up and down his length, eyes still shut tight.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispers. He knows Castiel probably won’t appreciate being watched during something so intimate.

 

Castiel moans throatily, his back arching, “ _Dean_.”

 

Dean’s mouth goes dry as sandpaper, nothing coming out except a shaky breath. It’s the first time Castiel has said his first name, and, somehow, it sounds just right coming from his lips—even if only married couples call each other that way. That must mean something important.

 

“Cas—Cas, I’ve fallen for you.” There’s no better time to admit your feelings than when you have the person right in front of you, and they’re fresh in your mind. Dean has lost enough in the past to understand that.

 

Castiel’s eyes open promptly, his movements halting all at once, “What did you say?”

 

“I’m in love with you,” Dean mutters, running a hand through Castiel’s damp hair.

 

Castiel watches Dean. Dean waits patiently for any answer. Castiel continues looking at Dean like he’s said the most outrageous comment in the history of all creatures on Heaven and Earth. Dean throws caution to the wind, drawn in by those innocent blue eyes, and tips Castiel’s head back for a soft press of lips.

 

“As have I,” Castiel utters quietly when they break apart.

 

Dean continues stroking Castiel’s soft strands, awestruck by how someone could be so beautiful. Castiel’s fingers emerge from the soapy water, grabbing onto Dean’s knee where he’s bent against the tub. That’s all the encouragement the young master needs to scoop Castiel out of the suds, and carry him off to his bedroom. They need privacy, and they need it _immediately_.

 

Castiel may think it’s slightly ridiculous to be carried in the nude down the hall, but it’s also the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel is disoriented by the headboard that is gold rimmed, and not velvet-rimmed like the one in his room. His fingers trace it curiously, one eye barely open as he does so. His elbow bends slightly with the movement, brushing against another figure in bed. Castiel turns on his side, delighted with the sight of the young master sleeping next to him. It’s a dream Castiel’s been having every day since he’s arrived, and it’s finally happening.

 

“Good morning,” Dean utters, voice raw and thick with textures that Castiel wishes he could taste. Dean’s eyes aren’t even open yet, though.

 

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel answers warmly, sliding his fingers from the headboard to Dean’s ruffled hair.

 

“I didn’t push you too far last night, I hope,” Dean says, cracking an eye open, immediately shutting it when the light peers in through his curtain. “Why is it so early?”

 

Castiel laughs, petting Dean’s hair. He leans up to block the glare of sunlight threatening to blind Dean. “I’m fine. You seem worse than me.”

 

“I feel great,” Dean bemoans, leaning in to Castiel’s warm palm, “especially with your touch on me.”

Castiel looks down, his lashes hiding the gentle redness tinting his cheeks. He can’t answer that, not when it’s all so new and unexpected and _perfect_. He settles for kissing Dean on the tip of his nose, ignoring the whimper when the sun sneaks past his body for a moment.

 

This isn’t weird, but maybe telling Jo of their intentions will be.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Castiel is the first downstairs, wearing dark high-waist pants and a white collared shirt. He sits at the table, smiling at the maid when she sets a plate of porridge in front of him. Dean is walking, shakily, down the stairs soon after.

 

Dean really shouldn’t be the one so affected when he was on top the night before. Perhaps it’s a psychosomatic thing, unrelated to the actual actions but rather what they meant. Dean drags a hand down his face; it’s too early in the day to already be analysing his love affair with Castiel.

 

Dean joins Castiel at the table, sitting much closer than they did in the past, their legs touching underneath the tablecloth. Jo steps into the dining room rubbing an eye when Dean is dipping his spoon in Castiel’s bowl. She blinks, glancing at them furtively, and taking a seat at the other side of the table.

 

Jo hums as she chews on warm bread from the oven, pretending not to notice the way her father stares at Castiel with bright, red hearts in his eyes. Castiel leans on a hand, aware of Jo’s spoon about to fall to the carpet, but not warning her about it because Dean is rubbing his foot against Castiel’s distractingly.

 

Just as Castiel anticipated, the spoon tumbles, and Jo slides below the table to pick it up. Jo beams when she pops back up with the silver utensil in hand. Dean quirks an eye at her, but when he looks over at Castiel he’s wearing the same bright smile.

 

What had she seen?

 

Dean makes a knowing sound as he steals another mouthful of Castiel’s breakfast. Perhaps she noticed their fingers intertwined and leaned against Dean’s lap. If his daughter approves of Castiel, then Dean really has nothing to worry about in the future. Castiel squeezes Dean’s thigh gently and Dean chokes on the stolen food.

 

Maybe Dean has more to worry about than ever before.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Undisclosed Desires by Muse.


End file.
